imtellingbatman
by oh-mother-of-darkness
Summary: Tim isn't fake-dead anymore. This story is based (with permission) on a headcanon by tumblr user callmeofficergrayson


"There are three separate complaints that you held up traffic to pet a cat," said Dick, flashing his phone screen in Damian's direction. Damian didn't look up from his book, which was about what Tim expected. They'd gotten this far without a reaction.

"I wanted to pet the cat," Damian said, calmly turning a page.

"You have a cat," Tim reminded him.

"I don't have that cat. It was orange."

"You're right, it all makes sense now."

Damian rolled his eyes as expressively as he could without taking his face out of his novel. It was good enough for Tim to get the picture, so he turned back to Dick, who was still scrolling through Twitter.

"I heard Nightwing say that Robin's grounded again," Dick read, "but the kid is definitely perched on my balcony right now, so #imtellingbatman." He shot Damian a look. "I'm shocked."

"When was that?"

"April seventeenth."

Damian nodded, half-smirking. "He doesn't read them, then. He never noticed I was gone."

"I don't know," said Tim. "That could be what he wants us to think. You sneak out, what, twice a week? Enforcing a curfew once isn't worth burning a source."

"True," said Damian, considering it.

"Unless he wanted to use it as a deterrent system," Dick put in. "Not that possible consequences have ever actually deterred us. For example…" He frowned down at his phone. "Never mind, this one isn't about you."

Dick sighed, turning to Jason instead. "It says you blew up a dumpster?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Business," Jason shrugged. "Mind your own."

That was also about what Tim expected. He watched in amusement as Dick crossed his arms, obviously debating whether it would be worth it to push for information— Jason might be hiding something important, but it wouldn't be easy to get out of him. In the end, Dick let it go.

"Fine," he decided. "But you have almost as many of these as Damian."

"That figures."

"I'm 99% sure that Red Hood and Robin are playing on the playground across my street," Dick read. "#imtellingbatman."

"Stakeout," Damian corrected, while Jason nodded in confirmation. "Not playing."

"Update: they definitely are, and Robin just shoved Hood off a slide #imtellingbatman."

Damian grinned. "Now _that_ I did," he agreed, then immediately ducked sideways to dodge the pillow Jason threw at his head. "We still weren't playing. It was a strategic location."

"Where else would a toddler like him blend in?" Jason muttered, grabbing for a second pillow.

"Fair." Dick kept scrolling. "What else? Oh, apparently Damian stabbed a school bus. On multiple occasions."

Damian shrugged, clearly unconcerned, and pointedly turned another page. "I stab lots of things."

"You're supposed to aim for people," Tim suggested.

"I can add you to the list."

"Don't start," Dick sighed. "Church break in. Saw Robin playing in the stained glass- he climbed the Madonna statue to stick his hand in the blue light #imtellingbatman."

"I didn't."

"That sounds exactly like you."

"It doesn't."

"Sure, Damian," said Dick, rolling his eyes in Tim's direction to communicate that yes, it did sound like Damian, and it was kind of endearing. Tim wouldn't have said it out loud, but he agreed: that was exactly the kind of thing that Damian would do and hide. He'd be afraid of coming across as childish.

Damian _was_ a child, of course, but he didn't like people bringing it up.

"Can I see?" Tim asked. Dick handed over the phone, and Tim swiped through a few pages worth of tweets, scanning for more about Damian. It didn't take long to find one.

"2nd & Main: some costume taunted Robin about RR. Ambulance en route. Robin looks really upset? #imtellingbatman so he can check on… his kid…." Tim trailed awkwardly away.

On the couch below him, Damian went very still.

"That never happened."

"Damn," Tim muttered. "I didn't realize you cared."

"I didn't," said Damian. "And I don't. It never happened."

"You thought I was dead, okay? It's not weird to be emotional about that."

"Never," Damian insisted. "Happened."

Tim glanced over at Jason and Dick, who were both watching attentively, though admittedly in very different ways; Jason looked like he was thirty seconds from making popcorn, while Dick nodded encouragingly in Damian's direction.

"Uh. Thanks?" Tim really was touched. It wasn't that he wanted Damian to be upset, exactly— too many of the important people in Tim's life had died for him to wish that on anyone else— but it was nice to know where he stood. After all, Tim had been devastated when Damian died. Apparently Damian had returned the favor.

"I could murder you right now and laugh at your funeral."

"Did he?" Tim asked.

Dick shook his head. "He cried. A lot."

"Liar!" Damian slammed his book shut, glaring at the pair of them. He looked dangerously close to violence, which was probably why Jason decided to egg him on.

"You might as well admit it," he said. "You're not fooling anyone."

Damian made a grab for something in his belt that was almost definitely a weapon. Evidently, Dick had been expecting that— he snatched Damian's wrist as it went by and pulled him back onto the couch.

"Shut up," he told Jason. "And Damian?"

"What?"

"Calm down."

"I'm always calm."

"You've never been calm in your life, and you know it," Tim told him.

"Fight me," said Damian, glaring.

Dick ran his free hand through his hair. "Okay that's… that's not calm."

"Fine." Damian closed his eyes long enough to take a single deep breath and wipe the expression from his face. "Can I go now?"

Dick raised an eyebrow at Tim. Tim did not want to continue the conversation.

"Please."

Damian bolted for the door as soon as Dick let go of his wrist. He paused in the hallway long enough to point at Tim— _"Never happened."_ — and then he was gone.

Right, Tim figured. Sure.


End file.
